That's What You Get
by FinalFantasyHearts-Rinsaito
Summary: Four years after Season two's events. People move on, or, they pretend to. Unspoken fears and dreams come to haunt the Heroes...but, this time they're not dreaming. Your heart betrays you when you least expect it.
1. Chapter One: A Riot In Me

That's What You Get

/Set four years after season two. Song quotes are important in this./

Chapter One: A Riot In Me 

_No, sir, well, I don't want to be to blame - not anymore. It's your turn, so, take a seat, we're settling the final score. And, why do we like to hurt so much? I can't decide, you have made it harder just to go on. And why, all the possibilities, well, I was wrong. That's what you get when you let your heart win. I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating…_

"Zeitgeist…"

The word echoed in the silence, a whisper with no origin, or destination. But, it hung there, still, far after it had been uttered, rolling through her mind like wine. The room was in darkness, only faint orange light from the street lamp outside the apartment window illuminating the harsh edges of the bed she sat on. She liked the gloom, to hide there indefinitely. Knowing that, when she was alone, in the inky blackness…nothing, and no one could touch her. Not any more.

**

"And a love story means nothing. Because love is nothing. It's not an emotion, it's not a state of mind, it's a fallacy. An untruth we invented long ago. Something with which we comfort ourselves when we are alone. It is nothing more." he sighed, "It does not exist. We are _alone._"

_Break down again, I'm suffering again. I can't find a way out, I can't find a way out._

Molly Walker opened her eyes blearily, and yawned. Pushing herself off the bed, she looked around with an air of curiosity, long since wasted on her own bedroom but still remained. It was a habit of hers, one that had developed after she'd moved in with Mohinder and Matt. She was so worried that she'd wake to find them dead, like her parents, that the checking of rooms had become a ritual. Every single morning, and each night. The bogeyman still lived on in her dreams, taking away Matt and Mohinder when they morphed to nightmares.

Checking the clock quickly, Molly began foraging for clean clothes through her room and when she found none, padded out into the living room in her pajamas. The room was in silence, but immaculately clean. Unlike, when she had gone to bed the previous evening. Molly peered at the annoyingly plain calendar hung by the main room's clock. A large red X labeling Mohinder's return was on the day's date. This explained the apartment's state of cleanliness.

"Mohinderrrrrrrrr?" Molly whined plaintively, hoping he would appear like a helpful Indian genie, laden with the latest fashions for her to choose from. Sadly, he did not. In fact, it wasn't even Mohinder who greeted her with a smoking pan of freshly cooked bacon.

"Good morning, Molly." Grinned Sylar.

**

"Ha! Finally legal! " Claire Bennet yelled in triumph to her friends as she pulled up to the restaurant they were meeting at. She flashed her newly gained identity card at them and grinned with excitement. "Oh, dear, sweet, twenty-first year of life - treat me well. Let me drink every night and not have a hangover. And, yeah…God, let me drink A LOT!" Jumping out of the car her friends crowded round her, shouting enthusiastically.

"Your dad would so go berserk-o if he knew, Claire…"

"You gonna tell him, Trent?" she asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly to the brunette that had addressed her.

Trent frowned at her disapprovingly at her, and she pouted. The pair then broke into wide grins, Trent reached for her, winding his arms around her waist and pressing his lips lightly to hers. More general whooping of another kind erupted within the group, and Claire started laughing.

"As long as you don't tell, I won't." he winked, taking her hand and leading her to his own car. Leaving her neat, red Porsche exactly where she'd promised her father she would.

The lurid orange Lamborghini that had pulled up beside her car, lowered the window on the driver's side. After the blond inside the sports car saw Claire leave in Trent's friend-filled land rover, he cracked open the low door, stepped out. The side-walk wasn't as clean as he would have liked, and he only just managed to avoid a particularly muddy puddle situated unhelpfully close to his car. Scraping his Italian leather shoes against the asphalt quickly, should a spatter of mud landed on them, he turned. Hands in the pockets of his tailored suit, he made his way around the back of his own car, tipping the lenses of his sunglasses slightly. No one questioned when someone in expensive attire wore sunglasses at night in California. So, unnoticed he went, smiling to himself as he accidentally brushed the side of Claire's car and went into the restaurant.

_Perfect. _

**

"_I took a chance, I took a shot, and you might think I'm bulletproof - but I'm not…"_ Bob Bishop rued the day he had given in to Elle's whining and bought his daughter an iPod. Really, he'd had no peace since then. They were always updating, and she always wanted the newest one, or a different colour…but, that he could deal with. What he couldn't stand, however, was her singing. Elle Bishop wasn't a bad singer, but Bob couldn't tolerate the songs that she sang. Behind the times songs, never anything actually popular at the time. At the moment she was hooked on Taylor Swift…a few years too late.

"Elle, sweetheart, could you stop singing for a second and look at this for me?" he asked her, carefully.

Elle's expression turned from melancholy to contempt within seconds. She didn't like being stopped when she was doing something, and singing was something she actually enjoyed in her little white, antiseptic prison.

Elle held out her hand for the file, taking it and flipping it open quickly.

"Him?" she queried, her expression becoming that of confusion. Bob nodded seriously, steeping his fingers and then linking them. He twisted his wedding band subconsciously as he watched her reaction.

"Yes, find him for me."

"Daddy…I -" Elle moaned, but Bob cut her off with a wave of his large hand.

"Do as I say, Elle. This is important." He told her sternly. Irritation grating in his tone.

Flicking her blonde hair over he shoulder she nodded, "Fine!" she spat out the word and then stalked to the door, attempting to slam the door behind her. But, as always with the delayed closing doors, failed. Much to her annoyance.

"_I'm sick and tired of your attitude, feeling like I don't know you…"_

-----

A/N: I just can't seem to write happy things. Or, at least…I just couldn't write anything at all while I was happy for once…Hence, I'm back writing. I apologise for any mistakes I missed...I didn't have a BETA :(

Muchos regards and love to y'all, _Rinsaito. _


	2. Chapter Two: Agony

That's What You Get

Chapter Two: Agony

_So, leave me, at the roadside. And, hang me, up and out to dry. 'Cause I don't think, you see, the places inside me, that you can't find. _

"Peter!" she called for the fifth time in a row, waving a perfectly manicured hand in front of his eyes for a response. The youngest of the Petrelli brothers gave a start, looking up at his sister-in-law. Heidi smiled, rolling her eyes at him. "Have you heard anything of what I just said?" She asked, bemusedly.

Peter flushed, shaking his head. "Probably not." He admitted, sheepishly.

Shrugging, she took a swig of the wine in her hand and continued where she had left off. "Basically, Peter, you mustn't tell Nathan about it, but, this is for you. I found it in the apartment." She pulled out a bulging brown envelope addressed to Peter and passed it to him.

He flipped it over in his hands a few times, before stowing it safely in his jacket pocket for later.

"Thanks, Heidi."

**

_You got it, you got it – some kind of magic. Hypnotic, hypnotic. You're leaving me breathless. I hate this, I hate this. You're not the one I believe in, with God as my witness. Now, when I caught myself, I had to stop myself, from saying something I should never thought of you. _

Molly blinked. It was a dream, a fantasy. A nightmare. The predatory grin - simply in her imagination. She would wake soon, wake to find the apartment the same as she'd left it the night before. Or, Mohinder there. Not this...It had to be a cruel nightmare, nothing more. There was no way that Sylar could be there. No way in hell. Certainly, in hell. Because, Sylar was dead. Molly Walker had seen the day for herself, four years ago. And, unlike the first time, she had thought it impossible to survive. She had even seen the body. It just couldn't be, it couldn't. But, things a way of always being the impossible in recent years.

"It's been far too long."Sylar sighed, smiling at her, "Would you like something to eat?"

Molly unfroze slightly, reminding herself to breathe. A stupid dream wasn't going to get the better of her! No, Sylar was a figment of her imagination, and nothing more. One of her many haunting ordeals coming back to...well, haunt her. The teenager swayed unsteadily on her bare feet, feeling all too aware of the expectant smile focused on her. What kind of screwed up dream was she having? What could she have taken to make her dream this?! It didn't make sense to her, she'd finally begun to think that she was free of the ghosts that followed her. Of the guilt for her parent's deaths that weight her down daily. She'd thought she wouldn't need to cry any more.

As f he could sense her confusion, if not see it in her pale face, he set the bacon down on the counter next to him. "Do you think you're dreaming?" He asked her, slowly.

Molly nodded, "I know I am."

Sylar tutted, wagging a finger knowingly at her, "Now, there's where you'd be wrong."

"If you were a dream, replicating reality, you would say that!" She protested, desperately.

"You're so like Mohinder, he'd be proud."

"You don't know anything. Only dreams would know things like that."

He grinned, once more, "Do you dream of me that often, dearest?"

Flushing scarlet, Molly shook her head. "You're not even worthy of my nightmares!"

Sylar frowned at her, taking a seat at the kitchen table and beginning to serve out the bacon. She watched him in a wary silence, until he was the one to reply. "You shouldn't lie to people when they can see your very thoughts. How must it be to have Matt for a 'father'? Never able to lie, or get away with anything...it must be hard." The serial-killer moved to the stove, pulling the eggs off the heat before they burnt, then separated them between two plates. Pushing the second towards Molly's side of the table, Sylar took his seat once more and began to eat.

Molly, swayed by the enticing promise of a cooked breakfast, moved on jelly-legs to her place, watching him for signs of attack.  
"But, you're dead. You really are. You can't be real, this can't be real."

He paused in the eating, swallowing a large mouthful and shaking his head. "It's harder to keep me dead than you'd think."

Molly stared at him in confusion, and curiosity getting the better of her, she finally asked him, "Tell me..."

_**_

_Water grey, through the windows, up the stairs. Chilling rain, like an ocean, everywhere. Don't want to reach for me, do you? I mean nothing to you. The little things give you away. _

Claire shivered unhappily, pulling her jumper tighter around her, and brushing the fresh snow flakes from her hair. Beside her, her uncle looked around himself like a mad man...but, she was used to this by now. Peter had always been a little odd.

"Claude?" Exclaimed Peter with surprise, catching sight of the man from the corner of his eye.

Claire frowned, "Who's Claude?"

"I'm Claude." He sighed, stepping lightly into the visible spectrum, and giving Peter a look of distaste. Really, the boy was no use. Undisturbed observation was impossible when you could be seen. He turned to Claire and smiled for once, "I haven't seen you for a long time. I worked with your father." he explained bluntly. Peter shook his head desperately behind her, but, it was too late.

"My dad?" she sobbed, tears seeping through heavily mascara'd lashes without much prompting. "I need to bring him back."

The Invisible man, being not so invisible, frowned, forced to react to some sort of emotional break-down belonging to this teenager, "Where is he? Bring him back from where, Claire?" She was mumbling incomprehensibly through her tears, her breathing becoming shallow. Blonde hair falling out of place without her noticing, she attempted to wipe away her tears, while colouring her hair black with make-up in the process. Claire looked to her father's ex-partner imploringly, her uncle was no use to her, and whispered, "The grave."

"Impossible!" Claude exploded.

The cheerleader shook her head, "I've found a way..."

**

_And, it's all we ask that you're dying, dying. Just living proof that the camera's...lying. And, o-o-o-open wide, and smile, 'cause this is your night. You'll go out in style. _

Elle pouted angrily, pulling on her woolly bobble hat and tugging it as far down over her ears as she could. She was not a happy bunny. In fact, she was furious. Ordered around by her idiot of a father, demoted to surveillance work and forced to wear less than fashionable clothes. It was definitely her worst nightmare rearing its ugly head, but in reality.

Shivering pathetically, she leaned back against her car in hopes of some warmth. Really, it was unfair to put her out in the snow, but her father didn't see it that way. In fact, no one else but she did. It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong exactly, it simply wasn't the type of befitting punishment she had wanted. Such was the way of her life.

Further down the parking lot, Elle heard a thump, somewhat muffled by the snow cover, but still loud enough to cause her some alarm. Pushing herself away from her car as quickly as she could, Elle looked around the small lot. There wasn't anyone there, not even an animal to explain the noise – which struck her as odd. Padding away from the car, slush crunching beneath her Ugg boots, Elle examined the freshly fallen snow. Two large tracks had been made in the middle of the lot, but none led there, as if something had fallen from above...

"Howdy, partner!" a particularly cheerful voice greeted her.

Turning back to her car in anger Elle walked past him, "I really hate you."

He followed bemusedly enough as she stomped her way through the snow, "Aw, don't be so cruel. You're growing on me, you know."

Elle threw him a look of pure hatred, "I don't need a partner, dammit! And why you? You don't have anything important about you."

He grinned at this, gently opening the car door she'd been struggling with, "And, how would you know what I have about me? Maybe I have hidden talents that your father thinks me worthy of a position because of?"

Elle blinked, unable to quite follow what he had just said, "Whatever. I thought you hated The Company anyway."

Nodding, he blocked her way, "Oh, but I do, Elle. Just as you do. I know you hate them as much as me. I can see it in your eyes." Elle shook her head slightly, denying what she knew had been true for a very long time. "You don't fool me, Miss Bishop. Don't you want revenge - for everything they did to you?"

Tears ran down her cheeks, the reality of what she wanted hitting home,"Yes."

"Then take them down. Help me." He pleaded.

She stared at him for a long time before saying anything, her mind working over all the things that tore her in two directions. Wiping her face, she met his gaze, "Okay. I will."

"Thank-you." He moved to leave her, but Elle grabbed his jacket before he'd gotten anywhere.

"One thing - don't hurt my father. Whatever he's done, I don't want to see him hurt, West."

He nodded, un-clamping her hand from his jumper and getting into the car. "Of course."

_I've been in a rut, back and forth enough - heart like a wheel. Without you around, so uncomfortable is how it feels. Every time you're near, trouble disappears, under the ground. The way you go too far, silver clouds'll start hanging around. _

-----

Author's Note: I really need a BETA, my spell check has stopped working...for reasons beyond me! :( Hmm...it's funny how writing makes you feel slightly better. Or, maybe that's just me. I'll just transfer the angst...I'm sorry if this really sucks.


End file.
